I'm sorry, sir--but I can't say anything more just now.
Kellinghausen (rising).
Good-day, then, Herr Holtzmann.
Holtzmann.
My respects to you, sir. (Goes out.)
Kellinghausen (giving way to his rage).
Hounds! Brigands! Damn them! All tarred with the same brush----
Beata enters.
Beata (quietly).
Flying into a passion won't mend matters, Michael.